


The Girl in the Tower

by Kittisnake



Series: Mara's Thief [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Psychological Trauma, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittisnake/pseuds/Kittisnake
Summary: Fjotra is kidnapped by a gang of Forsworn intent on using her Divine gifts for their dark magic. What the Forsworn don't know is that Dibella has been keeping a close eye on Her Chosen and help is not far behind. But why would She send vampires to save a little girl?





	The Girl in the Tower

The Forsworn women came for Fjotra while she was tending her flower garden. She was watering her red rock blossoms when she she saw a green glow. When the glow faded she was frozen in place. The women jumped out from behind the goat shed, threw a sack over her, and carried her away. She wanted to scream, she wanted to struggle, but the spell kept her quiet until they were well away from the village. Once it wore off, though, she began pulling at the ties at the top of the bag. 

_Let them take you_ , a woman's voice said inside her head.

“No!” Fjotra cried.

A Forsworn woman smacked the sack with a stick. “Quiet!”

Fjotra sniffled. No one had ever hit her before. The shock was worse than the pain across her ribs. Then the scent of lavender and roses filled the sack and the pain dissipated. They will not cause you lasting harm, my dear, the voice in her head whispered. I will not let them. I will protect you.

Why do I have to let them take me? Fjotra thought.

_Because you have a task to perform._

What task?

_You will know when it is time. Until then, stay strong and know that I am with you, my Sybil._

My name's Fjotra.

_It was Fjotra. It will be Sybil. You will be My High Priestess when this is done, my darling. I Chose you before you were born to tend my garden of worshipers. This is the beginning of your first task._

I'm scared.

_Do not be frightened my dear. Dibella loves you._

A heavy door slammed shut and the flowery aroma faded away. When the women untied the sack, Fjotra found herself in an old Imperial fort. She remembered Dibella's words and followed them up a long flight of stairs to a door at the top of the watchtower. It took all her courage not to jump when a horned man opened the door. A Forsworn Briarheart. Fjotra had heard of them, but she had never seen one in person. He was even more terrifying than she had imagined. Not because of the horns but because of the gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be. Inside, behind a cage of twigs, was a throbbing bloodstained briar blossom. She had heard of blood magic, but she didn't realize that it involved actual blood. And why a flower? Flowers were supposed to bring joy, not terror. 

It took everything she had not to flinch when the Briarheart took her hand and led her inside. He put her in a cage in the corner opposite the door. There was a fur-covered pile of straw inside and nothing else. The Briarheart pushed her into the cage, locked the door, and left. Finally alone, Fjotra threw herself on the straw and cried herself to sleep.

She dreamed of her garden. It was only a tiny, rocky patch of ground her father had fenced in behind their house so the goats wouldn't get at it, but it was hers and she had made it beautiful. The rocks were covered with moss, red rock blossoms, and mountain blues. Frost mirriam grew along the fence line with elf ears marking three of the posts. She had planted a sprig of juniper at the post nearest the goat pen. In a few years, if she could keep the goats from nibbling it, it would grow enough to produce berries. Fjotra couldn't wait. Her mother promised to teach her how to make juniper tarts from the fruit. 

That was the garden as it was. Fjotra also dreamed about the garden as she wanted it to be. It would extend further up the hillside, with more junipers and a few snowberry bushes as well. She wanted to try to grow lavender and tundra cotton. The cotton might not survive the winds at that altitude, but maybe if she grew it in pots and kept them on the lee side of the house.... She also wanted purple rock blossoms to go with her reds and blues. And a thistle. Not a Skyrim thistle, but a bright pink milk thistle. She had seen a dried one at an alchemist's stall last year when her parents took her to the harvest festival in Markarth. The alchemist told her it came all the way from the Jerall Mountains in Cyrodiil, far to the south. She had wanted to buy some seeds then but the alchemist didn't have any. Just the dried flowers. Maybe next year he would have some, he said. 

A golden-haired woman took the dried flower from the alchemist. As soon as she touched it, it came back to life. She planted the milk thistle in Fjotra's garden in front of a row of gnarled juniper bushes. Then she took Fjotra's hand and they went down the mountain into another garden filled with flowers the girl had never seen before. Fjotra asked Dibella what they were and She named each of them for her: columbine, alkanet, flax, ginseng, hazel, goldenrod, cornberry, fire petal, heather, wickwheat, willow, monkshood, lady's smock, dragonthorn, hyacinth, and lotus. And those were just the ones she remembered when she woke up. There were hundreds, thousands more flowers in Dibella's garden, each one more beautiful than the last.

When she woke the first thing she saw was a huge pewter lily lying in front of her cage. She stared at it confusedly. Then the Briarheart opened the cage door, sending her scurrying into the far corner. He only came in long enough to put a bucket of water and a half loaf of bread on the floor before locking her back in. Fjotra waited until he was across the room before she approached the food. While she ate, she watched him arranging pieces of metal on a stone dais. After an hour of steady work he had built most of a statue of a woman, her long hair barely concealing her nudity. Fjotra noticed that each time the Briarheart picked up a piece of the statue the bloody petals of the blossom in his chest glowed with a strange power. That must have been what gave him the strength to pick up the solid metal chunks as easily as if they were only sacks of potatoes.

Fjotra felt sick, but it wasn't from the stale bread or dusty water. It was from the sight of a flower being desecrated. They were symbols of life, not conduits for blood magic. She felt even worse when the Briarheart attached the lily to the statue and Fjotra realized he had been building a statue of Dibella. This was wrong. Absolutely wrong in every way. Why was he, an undead creature, erecting an image of the Goddess of Love and Beauty? Why was Fjotra here? What was going to happen to her?

A faint whiff of roses mixed with juniper. _Stay calm, my dear. I will not let them hurt you._

A Forsworn woman carrying a small crate came into the room. She waited until the Briarheart had moved a trestle table in front of the dais before approaching him. Together they unpacked the crate, arranging its contents on the table. Fjotra moved to the other side of her cage so she could see what they were doing. There were a lot of half-melted candles, several candlesticks, and a pewter bowl and ewer. Then the woman took out some strange purple items: a large stand, another bowl, and four spiky things. The Briarheart grunted and left her to put the pieces together while he rummaged around in a chest near the door.

Fjotra's feeling of dread increased when she saw the purple things. They looked strangely familiar. When the woman started attaching the spikes to the stand, she realized why: it was a shrine to Dibella. The four spikes represented the petals of a flower just beginning to bloom, the bowl was the carpal that held the holy water that stood for nectar. There should have been a priestess on hand to bless the water for the bowl, but there was only the Briarheart and Forsworn woman. And Fjotra, but she was powerless to do anything inside her cage. The scent of roses and monkshood surrounded Fjotra in a protective shell as the Briarheart crept up behind the woman.

As soon as she finished attaching the last petal to the shrine, the Briarheart grabbed her. He covered her mouth with one hand and held a knife to her throat with the other. He said something in her ear that made her whimper. He pushed the knife against her skin. “Do it!” he commanded.

The woman, trembling, pulled off her fur shirt. The Briarheart moved his hand off her mouth to her chest. “And the rest,” he growled, squeezing her breasts tightly. She whimpered again as she slowly removed her skirt. When she was completely naked save for her boots, the Briarheart took the knife away from her throat. He pushed her face down to the table and pushed her legs apart with his knee. The woman made a mewling sound. The Briarheart sheathed the knife, then suddenly pulled it and the sheath off his belt. He pointed it, hilt-first, towards the woman. 

_Don't look._

Fjotra closed her eyes tightly and retreated to the straw pile. She buried herself under the furs, but even with her hands over her ears she could still hear the woman screaming. 

Why are they doing this? she asked Dibella.

 _Blood magic_ , She replied. 

There was a clatter and the sound of something hitting the floor. A rhythmic grunting began. The scent of monkshood grew stronger. The woman's cries died away to a quiet sobbing.

 _It is a dark ritual_ , Dibella continued. _Once My shrine has been desecrated they will use it to create new Briarhearts. That is why they kidnapped you. They need the magic of a Dibellan priestess to infuse the blood magic into the briar blossoms to change them into hearts. They have not been able to create new hearts for many decades, though. My previous Sybil was able to prevent their rites from working but she died a few weeks ago. You, my dear, are not yet strong enough to interfere with their magic. They think they will be able to corrupt you before My priestesses can train you but they do not know that I am always with My Sybils. I will not let them harm you, dear._

Then why am I here?

_So that you may know what it is that you are to prevent. The woman was working with the Briarheart to corrupt My shrine but now she is alone in her violation. You will meet many like her when you serve Me. It is your job to heal them._

And I have to know what I'm healing them from.

_Yes. Be with her, Sybil. Your first task is to witness. Make sure the woman Kaile knows she is not alone. Hurry! The end is approaching._

Fjotra crawled out from under the furs and returned to the side of the cage closest to the altar. She watched the Briarheart thrust his hips against the woman lying spread-eagled against the table. She saw the woman's tear-stained face turned towards her. The Sybil looked bravely into the woman's frightened eyes. _You are not alone_ , she thought. _Dibella is with you. I am with you._

The Briarheart cried out as he climaxed. A moment later, he pulled the woman up over the shrine and slit her throat with the same knife he had used to violate her. The Sybil watched as the woman's life blood filled the carpal bowl. She watched the Briarheart wipe his seed from the corpse's back and add it to the bowl. She watched him smear the rest of the woman's blood over Dibella's statue. She looked into the woman's lifeless eyes as he flung her away from him onto the floor. _You are not alone,_ thought the Sybil. _You are never alone. But you will be the last. No woman will ever be sacrificed for these dark rites ever again._

Fjotra was never sure, but she thought she heard a soft thank you coming from the woman's corpse before the Briarheart dragged it out of the room. 

When she was alone, Fjotra flung herself onto her straw bed and cried herself to sleep. She dreamed again of Dibella's garden. She walked hand-in-hand with her Divine and Kaile's spirit, the aroma of all the flowers in the world purifying them from the horrible ordeal they had undergone.

~*~*~*~

She woke to the sound of tapping. The Briarheart was at an alchemy table, grinding something in a mortar. He tipped the powdered substance into a bubbling retort, humming to himself. Fjotra glared at him behind his back. After everything he had done, he had the sheer _nerve_ to go about his business as if nothing had happened. And _singing_ , to boot! He didn't even _care_ about the woman he had just raped and murdered! He didn't care that he had done ugly things at an altar dedicated to the Divine of Beauty and Pleasure! He had to be stopped. Fjotra would never help him create more monsters like himself. She wouldn't let him corrupt flowers the way he had corrupted Dibella's altar. Flowers were signs of new life and fertility, not cursed tokens of necromancy.

No more Briarhearts, Fjotra vowed. Once I get out of here, I will use my powers to make sure there will never be another Briarheart created ever again.

But in order to do that, she would have to first get out of the cage. And she had no idea how she would do that. She didn't know anything picking locks, even if she had something to do it with. She wasn't strong enough to fight the Briarheart physically. As for magically, well, she only knew a couple of minor healing spells. Nothing like fire or frost or lightning. Sybils probably weren't supposed to use destruction magic anyway. 

A faint whiff of roses mixed with garlic. _Courage, my darling Sybil. Help is on the way._

I hope it gets here soon. I don't want to be near that monster any more.

_You won't be, dearest. Be patient just a little longer. The Briarheart will get what he deserves and you will be freed._

Fjotra sighed. How long was “a little longer?” Adults were always saying something would happen shortly but “shortly” always seemed to be hours and hours. Divines were apparently the same way. They didn't understand how slowly time moved when you were waiting for something, especially if it was something you wanted very much. 

Fifteen year-long minutes later, the door to the tower room opened.

~*~*~*~

Two shadows slipped into the tower. They paused by the door for a moment, scanned the room, then separated. One crept slowly towards the Briarheart, keeping close to the wall. The other snuck over to the cage holding Fjotra where it began fiddling with the lock. She didn't notice he was there until she heard the lock snap open. She gasped at the sound.

“Shhhh,” the shadow whispered. Only it wasn't a shadow, but a man with golden skin and amber eyes. He pushed his hood back. Pointed ears. A High Elf. Fjotra had never seen one before but like every child in Skyrim she had heard tales about the wicked Thalmor. Was he a Thalmor? 

The elf pushed a bottle through the bars of the cage. “Drink that,” he whispered. “It will protect you during the fight.”

“What fight?”

“The one my companion is about to start. Hurry now. I promised Hamal I'd bring you back to the temple in one piece.”

Definitely not a Thalmor. Dibella wouldn't send anyone wicked to rescue Her Sybil. Fjotra drank the potion quickly. It made her insides tingle. 

“General magic resistance, in case you're wondering,” the elf said, noticing the face she made. “I don't know what he's going to throw at us. Stay back as far as you can. I'll try to keep him from hitting you with anything.”

The second shadow—which Fjotra could now see was a Nord woman—silently removed a dagger from her boot as she crept up behind the Briarheart. Suddenly she stood up, grabbed him, and slit his throat. For a brief moment Fjotra felt a thrill of satisfaction at seeing justice served. Then she realized that the Briarheart wasn't bleeding. Or at least not much. His blood moved in a slow trickle as if it were made of thick syrup. His hands sparked with lightning as he spun around to face the woman. He threw the spell with both hands but the woman dove out of the way before it could hit her. She rolled over to the altar, leapt up on it, and began throwing lighting of her own at the Briarheart.

Fjotra huddled in the far corner of her cage, trying to stay out of the way of the electricity flashing around the room. One of the bolts hit the metal bars, making them spark, but thanks to the elf's potion all she felt was a weird hum in her bones. The elf ran towards the Briarheart, throwing balls of fire at him. Attacked from both sides, the Briarheart began throwing lightning bolts wildly about the room. One of the spells hit the shrine, exploding it into bits. Shards of half-melted metal flew across the room when a bolt hit the statue. Fjotra pulled a fur over her head to protect herself. More explosions shook the room. Once everything stopped shaking Fjotra lifted up the edge of the fur to watch the fight.

The altar was completely destroyed. The shrine and statue gone were gone. The table was a pile of ash. There were even chunks of stone missing from the dais. The elf lay motionless on the ground. The Briarheart kicked him before turning around to face the woman who was casting a draining spell at him. As he approached her, his hands sparking with electricity, the elf jumped up and tackled him from behind. He pinned the Briarheart's arms to his sides, forcing him onto his back. “Get the heart, Serana!” he yelled. “It's the only way to stop him!”

The woman punched the gaping hole in the Briarheart's chest, shattering the twigs holding his heart in place. She pulled the bloody blossom out of the hole and flung it across the room. The Briarheart only had enough time to look shocked before he fell over, dead again. Serana flung one last bolt of lightning at the heart, incinerating it completely.

“Hey,” the elf protested. “Those hearts are worth good money, you know.”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding a bit sorry at all. “I just wanted to make sure he was really dead.”

“He is,” the elf said. “Once you pull the heart out you interrupt the animating spells.”

“Well, this way he won't be reanimated.”

“It wouldn't work anyway. He's already starting to rot.” The Briarheart's corpse hit the ground with a squishy thud. 

“Must have been an old one. The skin doesn't usually start to come off that quickly,” Serana said, pushing the decomposing body with her toe. The elf winced. “Oh, come on, Camriel. You can't tell me you're still squeamish about the undead.”

“I am when they rot before my eyes. What in the world was he doing up here anyway?”

“From the looks of the sigils painted on the statue, I'd say it was blood magic.”

Fjotra piped up. “They were making monsters.”

The adults turned to her. “What do you mean making monsters?” Camriel asked.

“He was going to make more Briarhearts. Dibella told me that they needed my magic to fuse their magic to briar blossoms to turn them into hearts.”

“Divine magic doesn't work with necromancy,” Camriel said. “Unless the shrine has been desecrated....” He trailed off. “Oh gods.”

“What?” asked Serana.

“He would have had to pervert the Rites of Dibella to desecrate Her shrine.”

Serana frowned in confusion. “Pervert the Rites?” Her eyes widened as she realized what that meant. “I didn't think Briarhearts were capable of that.”

“In front of a child.” Camriel looked disgusted.

“I had to be here,” Fjotra explained. “It was my duty as Sybil to stay with Kaile so she wouldn't be alone. She's not alone now. She's safe with Dibella.”

The adults were silent for a moment. Camriel glared at the decaying Briarheart on the floor while Serana looked worriedly at Fjotra. The Sybil met her gaze, read the ancient hurts she was hiding, and knew she was still too weak to do anything to help her. Bearing witness as a woman died was one thing, but this pain was tied up with a darkness that Fjotra could not penetrate. 

_You cannot heal her, my dear. Not in her present state._

Her present state?

_Nords do not have amber eyes._

I don't understand.

“Fjotra?”

She looked up. Serana was holding the door of the cage open. “Come on. It's time to go.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your father told us,” Serana said. “We went to Karthwasten to find you and he told us how the Forsworn had taken you yesterday. We followed your trail here.”

“And we're going to have to hurry if we're going to get her back to Karthwasten before sunrise,” Camriel said.

“Markarth,” Serana corrected him. “We have to bring her to the Temple.”

“We don't have time,” Camriel snapped. “It's an hour and a half from here to Karthwasten and another two hours past that to Markarth. The sun will be well up by then. Besides, we can't just whisk her off to the Temple without giving her parents a chance to say goodbye.”

“And how are we going to explain why we're sleeping all day to the villagers?” Serana countered.

“Obviously, because we've been up all night fighting the Forsworn. Let's get going!” Camriel turned abruptly and left the room. Serana sighed.

“I guess we're going to Karthwasten then. Come on, Fjotra. There's no arguing with an Altmer once he's made up his mind.”

Fjotra followed Serana down the countless steps of the tower staircase, pondering everything that had happened. She wondered why Camriel was so worried about getting to the village before the sun came up, why Serana said they were going to sleep all day, Dibella's comments about Serana's eyes. And what did She mean about Serana's “present state?” She didn't understand any of it...at least until she saw Serana and Camriel outside. There was a faint shimmer over both their faces. An illusion spell. Why would they need to hide behind an illusion?

She looked more carefully, trying to see under the spell. There was a hint of fire in their eyes.

Serana's eyes weren't really amber. Neither were Camriel's. 

Fiery eyes. Fear of sunrise. Sleeping during the day.

She had been rescued by a pair of vampires.

The scent of roses and edelweiss. _Do not worry, dearest. You are just the first step on their road to redemption. You must go with them. They will bring you to Me so I can begin their healing._

~*~*~*~

Only a few people were up when they reached the mining village. A Breton man with large sideburns was milking his goats while a bald man with a dark beard carried a dripping bucket to the watering trough at the side of the pen. A small woman carrying a yoke with two empty buckets walked toward the well. She stopped and stared at the strangers coming up the road. When she saw the girl walking behind them she dropped her yoke and screamed.

“Fjotra! My darling!”

“Mama!”

Fjotra ran into her mother's arms. A door banged and Fjotra's father came running out of his house and threw his arms around his wife and daughter. They stood joined for a moment before all three took a step back.

“Fjotra, my dear. Did they hurt you?” her father asked.

“Of course not,” she replied. “My spirit remains strong.”

He smiled proudly at her. “My little girl. Always strong.”

“Do you know where you have to go?” her mother asked.

Fjotra nodded. “Dibella told me. I'm to go to the Temple in Markarth. I...I'll have to leave you.” She hugged her father, burying her face in his stomach. He ruffled her hair affectionately.

“It's our honor to have you there,” he said.

Fjotra's mother came over to Camriel and Serana and shook their hands. “Thank you so much for rescuing her from the Forsworn.”

“We were glad to help, Mena,” Camriel said. “I know you and Enmon were worried sick about her.”

“We were,” Mena replied. “And we're beyond grateful that you brought her back to us so we could say goodbye.”

“Actually,” he said, “Serana and I were hoping you'd allow us to stay for a little while. We were up all night fighting the Forsworn in the tower and....”

“Oh, of course! You must be exhausted! Come, you can rest at our house. Enmon! Can you fetch the water while I show our guests inside?” 

He picked up the buckets as the led the vampires to the house. Fjotra tugged on his shirt. “Papa? Is it all right if I go visit my flowers one last time?”

“Of course, Fjotra. I'll get you when breakfast is ready.”

She dashed away to her garden. It was just as she had left it. None of the plants had been nibbled. Good. She said goodbye to her flowers and herbs, brushing her fingers lightly over their leaves and petals, scenting her hands with their aroma. She buried her face in the sharp foliage of the the juniper bush, inhaling its spicy odor. A wave of emotion washed over her. She loved her little garden and she would miss it terribly. There would be other, more spectacular, gardens in her future but this one was her first. She hoped Ainethach's goats would leave it alone. Especially the juniper. She wanted her mother to have the berries for her tarts.

When she went in to breakfast, the vampires were fast asleep on her parents' bed. Fjotra yawned all through the meal. Now that she was out of danger all the fear and excitement that had kept her going over the last couple of days drained away, leaving her completely exhausted. She fell asleep eating a piece of bread. When she woke she was in her old bed. She got up and put on the clean dress her mother had laid out for her. Her stomach growled.

“I'm getting hungry.”

Fjotra looked around, startled. Who said that? Was someone reading her thoughts? Then she saw Serana and Camriel sitting at the table. 

“Can you wait until we get to Markarth?” Serana asked.

“If we leave soon, yes,” said Camriel. 

“We'll have to if we want to get Fjotra to the Temple before midnight.”

“I want to stop by the mines before we go.”

“Why?”

“To see if her parents want to come with us.”

“Why would they want to?”

“Because we're taking their only daughter away from them. They need a chance to say goodbye.”

“They already said goodbye this morning, Camriel. Weren't you paying attention?”

“You don't have children, Serana. You don't understand. Her parents won't get a chance to visit her while she's being trained. The priestesses will keep her away from the public until then. And once she comes out of the inner sanctum she won't be Fjotra anymore. She'll be the Sybil.”

“She already is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn't you see the way she looked at me in the tower? When she was talking about bearing witness for the woman the Briarheart killed?” Serana shuddered. “It was uncanny. It was like she was looking deep inside me. She knew about....things I've never told anyone about. Things that were done to me millennia ago. Things no little girl should know about. But she's not a little girl anymore. After everything she's been through in the last couple of days, she is well on her way to becoming a Divine Agent.”

He stared at the table, his eyes dimmed with sadness.“You never know when the last time will be,” he murmured under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” A moment of silence, then, “I'm still going to ask.”

Several things fit together in Fjotra's mind. _He has a daughter he had to give up. He misses her terribly._ A breath of roses wafted into the room.

 _Yes, he does_ , Dibella replied. _You are quick to notice that which is hidden. That skill will serve you well in the future._

What happened to her? Camriel's daughter, I mean.

_Nothing. It is what happened to him that caused their separation._

What happened to him? You mean, when he was turned into a vampire?

_Yes. He feels that a vampire does not have the right to be loved._

But Serana loves him. You can see that. She keeps trying to make him feel better. See? She's holding his hand right now.

_Yes, Serana does love him. But Garion has lost greater loves than hers and those losses blind him to any new affection he is offered._

Who's Garion?

_Another skill you must acquire is the ability to look beyond names._

Camriel's name is Garion?

Dibella ignored the question. _Tell him that the knot was never untied. Those who loved him still do and it is through that love he will be healed. As for Serana, tell her her secrets are the source of her pain. She must share them to end her torment._

The rose scent faded away. Fjotra was alone inside her head again. Alone and very confused. Why did Camriel have two names? What was all that about knots being untied and painful secrets?  
Was this what Dibella meant earlier when she said the vampires were on the road to redemption? 

“Look who's awake,” Serana said, nodding towards her.

Camriel smiled at the little girl. Or was he Garion? “Good afternoon, Fjotra. Would you like a snack before we leave? Your mother left some goat stew on the fire for you.”

Fjotra's stomach growled again, chasing all the questions out of her mind. She was too hungry to worry about being the Sybil right now. “Yes, thank you,” she said gratefully.

~*~*~*~

They left an hour later. As promised, Camriel went into the mine to ask Fjotra's parents to accompany them. No one was surprised to see him come out alone. Serana wisely refrained from saying “I told you so” out loud even if she couldn't keep from looking it. For a moment Fjotra thought they were going to have an argument, but Camriel only harrumphed and marched down the hill to the main road, leaving the women to run after him. Fortunately, once they reached the road they met a farmer carting a load of apples to the city market who let them ride with him. The only price he asked was conversation.

“It's a long road from Rorikstead to Markarth and I got a late start. Otherwise I'd be there by now. Be nice to have some company, especially with these reports of vampires. Folks have seen them wandering around the roads lately. Like they're looking for something. That's why I keep a bunch of garlic tied to my wagon. Keeps them away, they say.”

“Hmm. I'll have to try that,” Camriel said. Serana choked back a laugh.

“Best vampire repellent there is,” the farmer said. “Wish it would keep the dragons off, too.”

“Have there been any attacks lately?” Camriel asked.

“Not around here; not that I've heard of. But they've been flying around the mountains a lot. Kind of eerie, hearing them cry out. Chills you down to your bones. Never can tell if they're calling to each other or if they're stalking prey.”

“If the roars are low-pitched they're talking to each other. If it sounds like a shriek, that's when they're after prey,” Camriel said.

The farmer gave him a puzzled look.

“I was at Helgen.”

“Huh,” the farmer said, impressed. “You're lucky to be alive.”

“Hmm.”

“They say the Dragonborn was at Helgen,” said the farmer. “Did you see him?”

“I was too busy running to see who else was there.”

“You haven't heard anything about him in your travels, have you?”

“No. Why?”

“Just wondering. They say he ain't been seen in a while. Not since he killed a dragon out in the Rift five or six months ago. Jarl Siddgeir down in Falkreath was looking for him to take care of a big 'un they found up in the mountains but he ain't replied to the messages yet.”

“He might be at High Hrothgar with the Graybeards. I heard they had offered to train him.”

The farmer nodded. “That makes sense. Explains why no one's been able to get hold of him.”

“Speaking of Jarl Siddgeir, is his uncle still trying to get him off the throne?” Camriel asked. The farmer laughed and spent the rest of the journey detailing Dengeir's latest failed coup.

Night had fallen by the time they reached Markarth. Camriel hopped off the wagon and disappeared as soon as they reached the stables, leaving the farmer to help Serana and Fjotra down from the wagon alone. The women thanked the farmer for the ride before heading up the steps to the city gate where they found Camriel arguing with one of the guards.

“Sorry,” the guard said. “Orders is orders. Can't open the gates until dawn.”

“Would this change your mind?” the elf asked, handing over a coin pouch. The guard handed it back.

“Not worth my job, sir. You can bed down in the stables if you'd like.”

“That is completely unacceptable!” Camriel snapped. 

“Sir, I cannot unlock this gate until dawn. Vampires have been sighted on the main roads. We must protect the citizens of Markarth,” the guard replied.

“And the safety of the Chosen of Dibella is unworthy of your protection just because she is outside your precious gate?” shouted Camriel.

“The priestesses are all inside the gate, sir,” said the guard with a sneer.

“Not this one,” Camriel said, gesturing towards Fjotra. “My companion and I were sent by Mother Hamal herself to find this girl and bring her to the Temple. This girl is the Sybil, chosen by Dibella Herself. Do you really want to explain to the priestesses why you left their Chosen One outside the gates?”

“Pull the other one,” the guard snorted. “I've got my orders. I ain't letting anyone past this gate until the sun comes up.”

Camriel drew up to his full height so he could glare down on the guard more effectively. He took a deep breath as if he were about to retort, then let it go and spun around. He took two steps towards his companions, then spun back around and cast a spell at the guard. The Nord swayed slightly where he stood. Camriel walked over to him and put his arm on his shoulder like an old friend.

“Be reasonable,” he said pleasantly. “You don't really want to leave a little girl outside the city gates all night, do you? I'm sure your captain will understand. You may even get a reward for your part in bringing the Sybil to the Temple.”

“Yeah,” the guard said. 

“So be a good lad and unlock the gates for us. We won't be any trouble, I promise.”

“Okay.” The guard fumbled at his neck until he located the chain he was wearing. He pulled it and the key out from under his shirt and clumsily unlocked the door. The elf smiled brightly at him.

“There you go. Now back to your post. You still have a job to do.”

“Pleasant evening to you, sir,” the guard mumbled.

The two vampires hurried Fjotra into the city, pushing the gate closed behind them since the guard forgot to do it. “What did you cast at him?” Serana asked Camriel.

“Pacify,” he said.

“I've never seen Pacify affect someone that way.”

“It's the Alinor version. Come on.” He took Fjotra's hand and led her to the back of the canyon.

Fjotra felt a force stronger than Camriel's hand pulling her up towards a golden-roofed building on a ridge in the middle of the city. She felt like she was floating up the maze of stairs and walkways to a pair of bronze doors flanked by flower-shaped stone braziers. Inside those doors was a short corridor lined with flower boxes overflowing with lavender, frost mirriam, and purple rock blossoms. At the end of the corridor was another set of doors flanked by two large pewter statues of Dibella. Fjotra felt like crying with happiness. She was home. Finally.

Camriel put his hand on her shoulder. “This is where we part, little one. The priestesses won't let males past the antechamber.”

She looked up at him. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

He smiled sadly. “You're welcome, dear. Serana, will you do the honors?”

“Of course.” Serana took the girl's hand and led her into the Temple itself. Golden light glowed from the braziers, making the silvery statues look warm and inviting. Flowers both dried and fresh were scattered on tables around the room, scenting the air with a thousand different perfumes. In the center of the room was a large pool filled with water clear as crystal. Standing around the pool were the priestesses. One of them, a tall woman with silver hair, approached the pair, her eyes wide with amazement. 

“You found her!” she exclaimed. “I can't believe it.”

“Believe it,” Serana replied.

“Let the girl come with me and we can begin her preparation. I will send word to her family that she is in good hands,” the silver-haired woman said. 

Serana bowed her head slightly as she released Fjotra's hand. “Thank you, Hamal.”

“Come, child,” Hamal said, reaching towards Fjotra. “I will take you to your rooms in the Inner Sanctum.”

Fjotra stepped back. “Wait! Before you take me back, I need to tell Serana something.” She gestured for the vampire woman to lean down. When she did, the girl whispered in her ear, “Dibella has a message for you. She says your secrets are the source of your pain. Your torment will not end until you share them.”

Serana's eyes went wide. “I can't,” she whispered.

“You must,” said the girl. “If you ever wish to be free, you must. And there's also had a message for Camriel. Tell him to tell Garion that the knot was never untied. All those who loved him still do and through that love he will be healed.”

“I will,” Serana said.

The Sybil kissed her cheek. “Dibella's blessings be upon you.” She turned back to Hamal. “I'm ready now, Mother.” She led the priestesses back into the Inner Sanctum.

~*~*~*~

The sound of the doors clanging shut brought Serana out of her reverie. She stood up and approached the pool in the middle of the room. The crystal water looked so cool and refreshing that she couldn't resist dipping some out with her hand and taking a quick drink. The liquid was even more refreshing than blood, if such a thing were possible, and had the added benefit of quieting the bad memories that the Sybil's words had awakened. Once she was composed, she returned to Camriel in the antechamber.

“That was the strangest little girl I've ever met,” she said.

“You were right about her not being a little girl anymore,” he said. “Not since Dibella chose her. She knows far more than she should.”

“Yes, she does.” Serana agreed. “She had a final message for you, by the way. Or rather she wanted you to pass a message along to someone named Garion.”

Camriel started. “Garion!”

She nodded. “She wanted you to tell him the knot was never untied and all who loved him still do. She said that love would heal him.”

He bit his lower lip. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you okay?” Serana asked.

He took a deep breath. “I think so. That just...wasn't a name I expected to hear again.”

“So who is this Garion?”

“Someone I used to know quite well. We've...parted ways, though.” He shook himself. 

“If it makes you feel any better, she her message for me was just as disturbing.”

“Oh? What was it?”

She grimaced. “I'm not ready to talk about it yet.”

“I completely understand.”

They stood in the antechamber for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. “What now?” Camriel asked.

“I guess we should go back to Volkihar to find out what my father's up to and why he has everyone roaming the countryside.”

“Can we stop at the gates first? I want to make sure that officious little guard gets his reward for letting us in.”

“Such vigilance should be rewarded,” Serana agreed. “He's the only one keeping Markarth safe from roaming vampires, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry about the long delay. Writer's block is a mighty beast but I have slain it! The adventures of Garion continue to continue!
> 
> Just in case you were wondering, the Alinor version of Pacify has a touch of Axii in it. I've been playing a lot of Witcher lately and the spells are starting to get mixed up in my head. It seems canon to me, though. You know the Thalmor would use the _hell_ out of Axii if they could.


End file.
